Secret Talent
by BlackCypress
Summary: A little idea for Zell that floats around my head. I managed not to bash Rinoa this time. Some plot seems to be developing...?
1. Lightning

Title: Secret Talent  
  
Author: Pick a name. "D", BlackCypress or The Bebop Cow  
  
Warning: Pretty much G, maybe PG for a bit of descriptiveness.  
  
Parings: None ctualy, its all mentioned in passing.  
  
Authors notes: This is a plot bunny. An idea I've been batting around on and off. I dont know if I'll ever continue it or not or even where it will go. If anyone has feeback on it (And spelling corrections ^^;;;;) feel free to post something.  
  
---  
  
Zell was sitting outside Ma's house one bright and sunny afternoon, munching on a sandwich she'd made for him, back to the warm wall as he enjoyed shore leve from the Garden after another great adventure. He was all smiles and energy, day in and day out, training, holding up his beleifs and the future of the garden with the rest of his friends.  
  
Ofcours, it wasnt so easy. It was taxing, on the mind, body and soul. Zell himself had taken the part of the jester, almost. Trying to keep a smie on evryone's faces, even siding with Selphie and helping out with the festivities when he could. They had so little to be happy about these days, trying to rebuid their world after the Sorceress war.   
  
After all, it wasnt all peace and glory immeditly. There were still territorial squabbles to clear up, rebellions of people seeing goverment at its weakest for years, and new lives to start from the old ones. They were still cleaning up the aftermath of all the terror and the pain people had been put through. The SeeD's were still at 'on call' status, expected to drop everything personal and come at the word of the Garden.  
  
And they were still just kids, really. Zell and most his friends were barely seventeen when reality came crashing down and dark ages threatened their world for good. He was ninteen now, and every day of it was still fresh in his mind. The sensation of her presance, the battles they had to fight against their own comrades, the pain they'd put their oved ones through. Not even the Guardan Forces could devour enough memory to make any of the 'heros' truely happy again.  
  
But everyone had their outlets. Talents and skils that they'd enjoyed even before the war and realythrew their every spare moment into now. Selphie and Irvine were a close couple, taking care of eachother, giving eachother someone to lean on. Rinoa had gone back home to free her little rebel group and town from governmental terror. Squal was acting as current headmaster of Balamb Garden since Cid and Edea had retred from the business. Quistis was stil acting as a SeeD in the garden, and a substitute teacher, though her full status wasnt put back into place.  
  
And Zell spent a lot of time up in his room or out seeing the country side on his hovorboard, sometimes being gone for days, even a week at a time when vacation alowed for it. The monsters were weakening and the most dangerous ones were confined to islands no one lived on, or were just vanishing from around popuated areas. Evryone wanted peace again, to worry about their own problems, and not the planets.  
  
When the mailman came by, Zell gave him a big, flat envelope, with the request not to have it bent before it was delivered. The man just smiled and nodded. He'd gotten a lot of strange envelopes from Zell like these. Always addressed to someone in Fisherman's Horizon. Who knows where it went from there.  
  
Zell finished his sandwich when the mailman had walked out of sight and went inside to talk to Ma and have a nap.  
  
***  
  
A few more magazines had started to get printed after the war. Almost every city had one now, and some of them ended up being carried across whatever continent they were produced on. Travelers frequently traed magzines with eachother, so some of them almost got international services. Some of the hottest new magazines were the new Styles of clothes all the big stars of theater wore and how to get them, or a kids magazine that encouraged people to have families and not worry about imminent doom anymore, even one on gardening and how to grow in the various soils around the world.  
  
There were only two that interested Squall however. He had the newest copies on his desk almost the same day they were printed. Every morning, he found himself in the office, siping softy at a cup of black coffee and either looking at the new 'Locks & Stocks' (L&S) bondage wear magazine, or 'Smoking Barrels, Singing Blades' (SBSB) weapon magazine. Just a little personal time before every work day.  
  
Lately though, SBSB had been getting more and more of his attention. The eidtors of the magazine had decided to change from the traditional covors of the hottest weapons and catalogging everything that was currently avalible, to just listing the best and worst of combat gear and actual opinions of the users. Articles and in depth information on not only how to use the weapons, but who was using them and for what purpose. To top it off, they had been hiring photographers who took action shots and artists with talent, rather than taking pictures of store models posing with guns. It was a whoe new reveatio of how things were done in the business, and Squall appreciated the change.  
  
Today, he was Ninteen, three weeks away from turning twenty. Hoping no one woud remember and throw him another one of selphe's goofy all garden surprise parties which she'd done last year (much to his embarrassment). Xu had already placed the morning's cup of coffe in his hand and he'd pced into his office. Sitting in a comfortable chair and looking down at his magazines and workload, he stopped, frozen, staring at todays issue of SBSB.  
  
'What makes Us better than Ultimacea?' in bold letters under the name of the mag, and a sub-caption, 'When violence goes too far, Page 13'. There were uother ltte burbs about violence related topics, a recall on a weapon brand and some quirky interviewr know for a good laugh splashed around the edges, but it was the hevily lifeike yet nightmareish image on the covor that had made him stop everything and just go blank.  
  
Two Galbadian soldiers, one holding the other in his arms. The larger man holding his smaller comrade had a whole blown through his chest, destroying evrything of where his heart and a good portion of his chest should've been and the landscape behind him visibe through this hole. His helmetted head was craned upwards twords the sky, jaw locked open in the frozen time of a scream, a prayer, a mourning. His uniform shredded and blood seeping down his arms and kneeling legs.  
  
The younger soldier in his arms lookng ever so peacful, the helmet fallen to the ground beside his comrade as his head had lolled back to face the veiwer. Blood trickled from his nose and lips despite his dreamlike expression, and blood coated the young man's chest, stil fresh and falling. Shot to death at an age before he'd realy had time to live.  
  
Around the two of them were bodies, only partialy drawn and scetchy so thatthe attention was immediatly on those in the foreground But as time passed and gears turned in Squall's head, he recognized colors, shapes and patterns. Galbadia Garden, Balamb Garden and Trabia Garden SeeDs and students, dead at each others hands amongst the Galbadian soldiers.   
  
And the signature in the corner merely read 'Lightning' and nothing more. 


	2. Fists

Title: Secret Talent  
  
Author: BlackCypress, Bebop Cow, The Letter D, take your pick.  
  
Warnings: Uhm. Its short. Thats my warning. Heh. Im tired and I didnt want to finish my other comission and THEN whittle this out. So I did this. In about 4 minutes just because Im tired of it floating around. Im tired and I need to shut up.  
  
Rating: PG, I'd gather. Whoa, thats rare for me.  
  
Pairings: None really.  
  
Plot: There is some that might come into effect later. Other than that, this is an hour fic.  
  
[ To the FFN crowd: There. Ya got a second chapter. Happy? ]  
  
"Hey!" Zell heard Squall's rage filled voice yell behind him.   
  
He'd skipped out on one of his classes, getting someone to fill in for him so he could draw up another idea before he lost it. He'd sent it off to his publisher and had forgotten about the entire class until recently. Too late for even make up work with vacation time nearing. He didn't blame Squall for being pissed really.  
  
The hand on his shoulder, wrenching him around to face the young headmaster, was a little unexpected though. He looked like an animal almost, like the Lion people said he was like. Sure, he'd seen Squall like this a lot, but never aimed at him, not really.  
  
"Hey, hey, whoa!" Zell threw his hands up slightly, palms open, in defense and trying not to show the animal beofre him harm. "So I missed one class, I'll make it up to you, I promise!"  
  
"You missed THE class, you yellow bellied, spineless chicken wuss!" Squall hissed, his fists clenched at his sides, wearing his rather formal attire over his usual white t-shirt. Wait a minute. Wasnt that for-  
  
"We've been planning this ceremony for months, and you go and fuck it up!" Squall's eyes seemed to have a lot more red in them. And he was yelling. At Zell. He didnt like that much, but it was partly his fualt, forgetting such a thing.  
  
"Oh geeze. I.. I forgot, Squall. I guess it slipped my mind, but I just had to get away for-... A day or two." And Zell smiled, something warm and bouncy, giving Squall a friendly smile and a look of promise.  
  
Just to get belted in the mouth by a wild fist.  
  
Zell staggered from the blow. More from the unexpectedness of Squall punching him than actual damage. Squall's strength was in swinging that big heavy blade of his, not the precision and tactics of hand to hand combat. Squall had never been physical like this with him though.  
  
It pissed him off. Like the name calling wasnt enough. He regained his footing, and seeing Squall come in for more, jounced forward and pushed him hard by slamming into him with his arm and shoulder. Toppling the gunblader down onto his ass.  
  
Zell stood there, towering over the great Lion, and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, finding a thin trace of blood on it. "Think you made your point, 'boss'? Or are you going to stand around and pose like Seifer, and spit big words to make yourself look tough?"  
  
He was a Hero, damnit, right along with the rest of them. He'd helped save the world too. And Squall just didnt seem to give a rats ass about him sometimes, just evryone else. Might as well give him a bit of his own medicine.  
  
Unfortunatly, his plan backfired as Squall shed his formal clothes - now scuffed slightly by the dust outside the gate where Squall had caught him in the first place - and stood, raising his fists, not caring how mismatched they were.  
  
"More like Chicken-Shit." It was the anger talking, Zell promised himself. His open hands becoming fists and he pulled back away from Squall a little bit. 'I'll just knock him down again and he'll back off', he said in soft mantra to himself, a little worried as Squall seemed to be mimicing his bounce and stature.  
  
How long had Squall been watching Zell to catch on to his motions that much and use them himself?  
  
Zell found his internal monolog and thought line wasnt a problem to keep up with himself as he fought on instinct rather than hesetation and decision making. When Squall tried to hit him with a hook, Zell grabbed his swinging arm and hit him hard in the side of his head, pushing him back down into the dirt again as he released.  
  
Squall fell on his ass again, and scuffed up his nice shoes, and dirtied his pale fingers with the dirt on the road as he scrambled upright again. They were fighters but Squall was blinded by his rage. 'Maybe he's stressed. Could probably use a vacation.' Zell considered as he ducked another wiled swing and punched his stomach from his crouch.  
  
Instead of crumpling to his knees though, Squall jerked forward, hald colapsing on Zell and jammed his elbow hard into his shoulder. Once, twice, three times before Zell yelled in pain, pushing at his thighs as he stood, flipping Squall over his back and slamming him down onto his back on the road.  
  
'Shit, he's flexible.' He moved away from Squall as soon as he landed, turning around to see the other boy already on his feet and charging. 'Damn, hes serious too. Guess I'm gonna have to knock him out.'  
  
Once he decided that, the fight both began and ended. Zell frabbed the incoming fist and twisted it. Moving with his twist so he scirted around behind Squall and forced his arm back, threatening to snap it behind his head whenever he tried to move.   
  
Zell was smaller than everyone else. He didnt have weapons like everyone else, and he looked and acted younger. But he could never be unarmed and acted faster on instinct than any of their analytical minds couldve. He kicked the back of Squall's knees, forcing him to fall forward.  
  
"Chickens dont fight too well, last I checked, Squall. And you fight like a girl." He hated saying it. It wasnt really true. But if thats what Squall listened to, he guessed he'd have to talk like that. Zell planted a foot in the small of his back for a moment, then pushed off as hard as he could while letting go of his arm, slamming him down onto the road again. Leaving a reddish copper dust footprint on his back.   
  
He watched Squall lay there panting, head down, streaks of dirt all over his otherwise pristine, white shirt. The coppery dust of the road in streaks where the shirt had been pulled from movement of muscle of slide and impact. His arms, leg,s hair, coated with the fine grit that almost made him look rough and tanned.  
  
The fight wasnt even more than a few bloes, but it still hurt. Zell's shoulder was throbbing. Granted, Squall had pretty sharp bones. That had counted twords somethign. But he'd just tried taking Zell on in a place he couldnt compete and was now feeling humility for it.  
  
And Zell felt bad.  
  
So he flopped down on the road beside him and rolled around in the dirt a bit. When he stopped, he met coled eyes and a perplexed expression of the man who'd just tried beating the living daylights out of him.  
  
Zell smiled.   
  
Squall blinked.  
  
Shook his head.  
  
Got up.  
  
"Dont miss your next class."  
  
And left.  
  
About two minutes after Squall strode back into the Garden's main hall and went off to his dorms, Zell dragged his feet back into the same circular hallway, panting and holding his head, covored in more grime than Squall had been and looking like he was sporting more than a few bruises.   
  
"Aw, me an' squall were just sharing some old memories. No worries. He always did win the wrestling matches. He IS bigger after all." Zell beamed as he told people about what happened, his own little fabricated story.   
  
After all, the kids in the Garden still needed someone to look up to. And most of them chose Squall. Who was he to break apart the unity of the Garden?  
  
'Not Zell. That's for sure.' 


	3. Blades

Shinwa: Er, Granted, I guess.  
  
Shootinstar: I probably should've mentioned before that Im not completely following the character setup of the game, eh? I like fleshing character possibilities out more.  
  
Gracious Rose: The picture HAS been drawn actually. Its not quite finished actually, but It'll be put up somewhere once its completed, inked and possibly colored.  
  
Hopemia: Good god, are you reading everything I've written? I certantly hope not considering how much is crap. 'Whats wrong with squall?!' got me realizing I threw you all into the middle of a plot without describing WHY he's acting that way though.   
  
Welcome to the chapter that explains some things.  
  
Title: Secret Talent (Part 3)  
  
Author: BlackCypress, TheBeopCow, TheLetterD, Eman Modnar, take your pick.  
  
Warnings: This veers away some from the general conceptions of the characters. If you were looking for a cutsy, perry, attention needy Squall, dont look here. If your looking for a Seifer/Zell pairing, you have got to be out of your mind. And no, I have no idea where this story is going.  
  
Rating: *Shrugs*  
  
Pairngs: None really.  
  
Plot: I had some when I started. cant remember what it was now though. Oops.  
  
---  
  
Sharing memories indeed. Zell had showered and touched himself up a bit once he'd gotten back to his dorm and locked the door. He, Seifer and Squall all had some very keen ememories shared with eachother. Unlike the happy-go-lucky Zell everyone else saw, he did not laugh and play when he'd been cornered in the halls by the gunbladesmen. Not since he'd been adopted by Ma while the other two were only taken in by the Garden.  
  
There was always some bad blood between those kids at the orphanage who got adopted and those who didnt. Sure, we were all glad when the girls got somewhere else safe to live away from us boys, but... Zell getting picked over everyone else to have someone willing to call one of them Son. That was rare. And picking the hyperactive runt kid was even rarer. That was his only clear memory of the Orphanage until Irvine came along and reminded them all of it.  
  
When Irvine showed up, Squall tried to beat Zell again. Zell just kep tsaying quiet about it, taking damages and blows, anything that Squall could take out on him. Squall had the wight of the world on his shoulders put on him and Zell couldnt find it in his heart to condemn him. Even when Seifer was still around.  
  
Ofcourse, the blade whipping had all been Seifer's idea. It wasnt just the lack of following orders that had kept Seifer from being SeeD. Some people were convinced he was perposly failing the tests, holding back in school so he could remain the bully. Others hoowever, like Doctor Kadowaki who'd found out about what they did to him, held the man back so they could keep an eye on him.  
  
Laying back in his bed, Zell looked down at the thin faint and not so fain lines and scars that criss crossed over his torso and belly. They were on his arms and legs too, but less noticable. The few times they'd made a mark large or deep enough that his clothes didnt covor it, he'd just gone skipping off to the doctors office saying he'd been attacked by Grat or fell out of a tree in the Quad or some other silly thing.   
  
There were a lot of reasons Zell was the person he was today. With his fighting, his art, his socialness. He wouldnt have known how to smile even when he was scared or hurt if it hadnt been for Seifer and Squall beating him before every mission. He'd almost died the first few times, before he started to convince himself they were just trying to make him stronger. It was kind of funny to think back on it now after the war. If they'd been nice to him and never did this, he would've snapped like a twig unter the pressure of the war.  
  
Reahing out, he fetched his personal sketch book and a pencil, begining to draw. Nothing specific really, just letting his mind wander.   
  
Everyone knew Zell was good at hand to hand. But no one in the school taught it. Yes, there were basic unarmed combat classes, but Zell's fighting style was all his own. There was no one in Balamb Garden that could copy it or even knew all the components he'd drawn from. That all routed back to theyounger years in the Garden too. Proving being the smallest didnt mean the weakest.  
  
He'd gone out when he could, every chance he got, constantly researching the next big names in street fighting, boxing, stylized martial arts, monster wrestling, even watching little kids playing war with eachother. Plays, history, dances. Hell, he'd been taking classes in Yoga recently. All in the namesake that some day his two fists mght rival those of the two bloodied blades in his nightmares.  
  
His art had developed aroudn that time too. Doodling some of the fighters in action on napkins at bars onr corner cafes until he had enough quick form to draw something memorble on paper. Some fighing classes had concentrated on relaxing and finding his inner peace and tranquility. He had meditated in medows to calm him down and started noticing things. Details in the landscape. Colors, patterns, shades and light. Applied to paper, he was testy at first. His earlier drawing slooking like a mess of shapes and lines.  
  
Now though, he was developed enough to draw things form memory. And his memories seemed to be what several magazines were looking for right now. So when he wasnt fighting for his life or those of others, he found some time to practice and draw.  
  
He found himself sketching Squall. His head hung down, and his body looking weak and broken, clothes tattered and torn, bleeding here and there. Memories of what he'd looked like when one of the sorceresses used Seifer like a puppet and brutally tortured him for information. He remembered that pretty strongly. He'd spoken truth and was still punished for it. His body had collapsed, but when he'd hopened his eyes the next day after slogging through still another mission, Zell had seen such a vibrant determination in his eyes.  
  
Squall may have hated the position he was forced into, but he was far too spirited to just lay down and die because someone told him to. Zell supposed that was the reason so many people looked on to him as a hero more than anyone else. Each and every one of them had their times to question their journey. Squall's journy WAS his questioning, and now he'd found himself in a nook he was handling better than anyone expected.  
  
Being Headmaster of Balamb wasnt exactly an easy task, after all, war or not. Though the Shumi were pleased that NORG had been removed from his seat of power withing Balamb's basement, they did not have any substancial representitives to help out with continual funs. The staff they had was dindling gradually as it was. Squall now had tasks of finding not only jobs for the students, but funding to continue housing and prime living conditions for the the worlds best neutral military aspect.  
  
Food, clothes, challenges, equipment, shelter, polotics of office, keeping the peace when hired to do negotiation contracts, cleaning up after student accidents, the list went on. Plus he now had a father that was a bit goofy in the head and still managed to run one of the most technologically advanced cities on the planet better than Squall could sign papers and tip fate's hand his way a little.  
  
Which ofcourse bugged the bruenette to no end and caused him to vent his frustrations on his favroite whipping boy. At least he was doing something constructive with his anger and hitting zell rather than, say, helpless civillians who couldnt possibly stand up to a soldier's attack. The day Squall or Zell or any of them really slipped up enough to hit an innocent was th day the Garden would go bankrupt from lawsuits.  
  
But that was okay. Zell was Strong now. Seifer had gone missing after a while, or so the public were lead to belive, and the scattered arguments of his existance became more and more optimistic. Rumors were spread around to change his apperance. Squall even at one point gave an interviewer a bizzare look and asked if she was reffering to the recent pop star, 'Safer Black' as if she'd told some kind of pointless joke.  
  
So the itentity of the seifer night had been wiped off as a mass hallucinagen, influenced by the sorceress to make them all pointlessly hate one of their own kind. Still, not everyone was confvinced, so they kept him under survalence and hiding for two or three more years.  
  
The ironic thing being that he really WAS 'Safer Black'. His hair had been dyed, skin tanned and they'd moved him inland. Giving him a small band to play with and a new identity and he was like another average kid again. If you could excuse the garden funded tharapy sessions and the amount of times he was doped up on tranquilizers to prevent him from going into a programmed killing spree.   
  
He closed his sketcbook half way through the picture, perposly leaving it incomplete. Hea d turning and looking out the window at the setting sun outside and how it affected the sky and surrounding landscape. He decided then and there he'd go visit Ma aain on the weekend. Mayb buy her some flowers and ask her for more stories of his grandfather again. Everywhere in history, people had been fighting hard to keep the lives of the population at large a happy, peaceful one.   
  
And Zell had hd his chance to save people too. He smiled, slipped under his covors, and shortly fell asleep.  
  
---  
  
At the current moment, I don know if I'll write any more or not. I dont really have anywhere to go with it. I suppose I could get around to hookinhg him up with someone, but the story just sortof veered off on its own path.  
  
Who knows, maybe he'll end up with Irvine ;p 


End file.
